The news I was hoping would never come.

They announced it yesterday. The Griffon helicopters will be escorting the Chinooks to Afghanistan. Jack flies Griffon helicopters. We (our household) has been on 21 days to move since last February. That means every morning we wake up, it could be the day that the announcement comes that Jack leaves for Afghanistan in 21 days. Every tomorrow, we wake up wondering if it will be the day they plan to send him away. November 26, 2008 the announcement came.

Now, I know that Jack has trained for this, and that he is ready to go. I know that his career is his dream, and I wouldn’t want to disgrace that with my own thoughts and regrets. I am not ungrateful for what he has been able to achieve, and I know that there are benefits as well as costs. That is my mind speaking.

My heart speaks a different story. I am sad. The word itself doesn’t touch what it means to think that your love might be sent away and never come back. I wish I were ignorant. I wish I didn’t know what this could mean. I wish I could watch the news clips on tv where the coffins come home, and the young fiances and wives cry along the yellow ribbon lined streets. I wish I could forget having dinner with my sister in Toronto on Young street two years ago and watching the parade of four hearses as they drove south towards the island airport. I wish I could believe that although we haven’t lost a pilot in the airforce in combat since Korea, that my man would be guaranteed safe home.

I wish I could forget Cranbrook last year. When I decided to catch a glimpse of the news during my dinner break, and saw the burning wreckage of a helicopter with only the words "Pilot and crew dead in Cranbrook helicopter crash". I will never forget the immediate feeling of absolute loss, the stress response of jumping onto the internet, the need to find out if it was Jack’s helicopter while he was training. I still curse CTV for not reporting whether it was a civilian or millitary helicopter. For 10 agonizing minutes, I tried to deny that my sweetie might never come home.

I try to forget watching Paschendale, with Jack’s millitary friends. The movie itself is silly, but the idea that words, promises can be overruled, that a promise "I won’t die" can be erased in a moment.

Its all just so senseless.

The fear. That someday I have to go to that gymnasium and say goodbye, not knowing if its the last time I’ll see him or not. Not knowing if pictures taken on that day will come to haunt me. Not knowing if a visit from uniformed officers will confirm my worst fears.

The tears stream down my face as I write this. I am strong, around family and friends. I do not show these feelings, apart from sarcastic comments about the senselessness of war. I know that war is just a concept in my mind, an amalgamation of the movies I’ve seen and the books I’ve read. I don’t know enough about this war (and really, what is truth in the case of our knowledge being based on financially backed media?) to make judgments about whether it is appropriate or not. But you know what? The United States didn’t fight Hitler at first either. So how can we know, in the moment, what is the right course of action? All I know is that everyone affected is someone’s brother, sister, cousin, lover. I don’t speak German, maybe because the Allies won- I just don’t know.

To make matters worse, Jack is out of town for three weeks. I have two final exams, one final paper and a lot of clinical work to focus upon. There is a household to manage, a Christmas trip back home that may or may not happen- and of course, the reactions of everyone who wants to talk about it.

I feel I can show Jack my true feelings, but that I also have to be strong for him. He can’t hold me right now, he can’t promise me that things will be okay. The best I can hope for is to count the days until he returns, occupy myself with school and work, and hope that I can push aside my fears.

Worry doesn’t affect outcome. But it sure does creep up on you at the weirdest of times.

I wonder if I am purposely torturing myself, thinking of all of the things I don’t want to have happen. Then I realize, perhaps this is just my way of coping. Thinking through the worst case scenarios now, when I can look forward to holding him and seeing him, might just prepare me for the terrible real life events, should they ever transpire.

My hug is so far away today.

Firecracker Girl